Without A Trace
by Noraneko94
Summary: An injured Dinozzo disappears on his way to the hospital. Can the team find him when any clues simply lead them to more questions? Tony and Gibbs centric, but with the entire team involved. Rated M for language and possibly some later scenes...
1. Chapter 1

Everything had gone smoothly. The team had tracked down Lieutenant Murdock with Abby's help, and they had made it to the harbour in time to find their culprit ready to board the next ship out to take him to Europe, where he would have disappeared with the money and weapons he had stolen.

Gibbs had wordlessly split the team into two: Agents McGee and David were to quietly go around the back of the containers that were between them and the Lieutenant while DiNozzo would have Gibbs' six as they confronted the man.

Lieutenant Murdock had not resisted the arrest, and Gibbs was satisfied that their team would be able to close this case without a hitch. To hear his SFA shout for them to take cover and to feel himself being pushed behind one of the containers therefore came as a shock for Gibbs.

Before he knew it, there was a series of bangs echoing around them. The Lieutenant that had been in the process of getting cuffed now lay motionless a few feet away from him, a pool of blood slowly forming from the holes in his chest.

Frantically, Gibbs reached for his gun while his eyes set on the other person who had not yet made it into cover. After shouting a ''cover me!'' over his shoulder to Ziva and McGee, Gibbs quickly ran out and grabbed his SFA, throwing the younger man's arm over his shoulder and sliding his own arm around Tony's waist to support him as they swiftly made it to the relative safety of the containers.

It had not gone unnoticed that Tony let out a small cry when Gibbs had lifted him towards their cover, and as he gently helped his agent lean against the metal wall he noticed the blood oozing from Tony's thigh.

''Gibbs!'' Ziva shouted as both she and McGee managed to slip towards their colleagues, their guns drawn and eyes darting around for any potential threats. ''We have called for backup. Are you alright?''

''I'm fine,'' Gibbs growled, removing his jacket. ''DiNozzo's been shot.''

''I'm fine…'' Came a weak groan from Tony. He sucked in a breath when Gibbs pressed his jacket against the wound to try and stop the bleeding.

''Like hell you are.'' Gibbs retorted, gesturing at Tim to come closer. ''Keep applying pressure and stay with him. Ziva, you're with me.''

Again, the team split up, with Gibbs and Ziva stalking towards the other side of the container as McGee looked after Tony.

''Stay with us, Tony.'' Tim muttered nervously, noticing how quickly he could feel the blood soaking through Gibbs' jacket. DiNozzo's breath was shallow, his face contorted into a grimace as McGee pressed onto the wound. ''Help is on the way.''

Gibbs signalled at Ziva to creep around the next container as he cut through a narrow gap between them. It had been eerily quiet since the first shots had been taken, but as soon as Gibbs poked his head around the corner, he was met with another rain of bullets. From his quick glance, Gibbs identified three assailants.

Trusting that Ziva had his six, Gibbs briefly came out of his cover and managed to take down one of the three men before they fired back. Cursing under his breath, he realised he needed a different vantage point to try and hit the other two.

He calculated his next move: he could try to simply hold the assailants off until backup arrived, but thinking back at the amount of blood that his senior field agent had been losing, he felt like he needed to get Tony to a hospital sooner rather than later.

''Gibbs.'' He was drawn away from his thoughts by Ziva's hushed voice. Somehow, the former Mossad agent had made it to the next row of containers. Gibbs nodded at her, silently agreeing that he would draw the remaining assailants' fire to get them out of their cover. Ziva had a much better chance at hitting them than he did right now.

Taking a deep breath, Gibbs ducked out of his cover again and started to shoot. The second the two unknown attackers showed their faces, Ziva jumped out and shot them both twice in the chest. After that, it became eerily quiet once more, safe from the waves and the faint sound of sirens in the distance.

''I'll take care of this.'' Ziva nodded at Gibbs, understanding his need to return to his agent's side.

''Boss, it's not looking good…'' McGee stammered nervously as soon as Gibbs ran back towards them. Looking down, Gibbs internally winced at the blood covering McGee's hands, which he still kept firmly pressed against Tony's thigh. ''I-I think the bullet might have hit an artery.''

''Hey, DiNozzo,'' Gibbs crouched down besides his agent, whose head was starting to slump forward. At the gentle head slap, Tony's eyes fluttered open, an unfocused gaze searching for his boss. Gibbs' gut was doing somersaults as he gently placed his hand at the back of his agent's neck to help him keep his head upright. ''Stay with us, backup is only minutes away.''

''Not goin' anywhere, boss…'' Tony slurred, clearly fighting the urge to close his eyes again. Glancing around, the agent frowned confused. ''Where's Ziva?''

''I'm right here, Tony.'' Ziva appeared from behind the container, silently taking in the scene in front of her. ''All three are confirmed dead.'' She assured Gibbs as they all took comfort in the sound of the sirens nearing them.

Gibbs was taken aback when Tony suddenly grabbed his arm. There was something akin to panic in his agent's eyes, his breath getting more laboured.

''Woah!'' Said Gibbs when Tony suddenly tried to move up, though he quickly fell back against the container with a cry of pain. ''What the hell, DiNozzo?''

''…'s wrong…'' Tony uttered, his grip on Gibbs weakening.

''What is?'' The older man asked, but the grip on his arm loosened, his agent's hand falling limply to his side. ''DiNozzo!'' Gibbs gently shook his agent, but his head simply lolled forward. Looking down, he could see the pool of blood that surrounded his agent, his own jacket and McGee's hands completely soaked through.

At that moment, multiple agents had come to secure the crime scene. Ziva quickly shouted for the medics to come to them, and they swiftly took over from McGee in applying pressure to the wound.

Gibbs barely remembered what happened as they took his SFA away in the ambulance. Once they'd lifted Tony onto the gurney, Gibbs had been left with just a pool of blood where his agent had been sat against the container. It chilled him to the core- it was like he was at a murder scene where the body had been dumped elsewhere.

''Gibbs!'' It was once again Ziva who pulled him out of his head. ''I'll liaise with the officers at the scene here. You and McGee should be there for Tony.''

Whether he should feel proud or ashamed, Gibbs wasn't sure, but still he nodded in agreement. He trusted that Ziva would take care of everything there, so he decided to rely on his team and barked at McGee to follow him to the car.

The younger agent followed him silently and for once, he did not seem to mind Gibbs' driving. It was only when Gibbs glanced over at his agent that his gut started twisting again. He wanted to head slap himself.

''McGee,'' He started uncharacteristically softly. The young agent looked up from his bloody hands, his thin frame shaking slightly. The look of terror in his eyes reminded Gibbs of when Tim had only just started, when he had truly been a Probie and had had his first experience out in the field. ''You did good out there.''

The rare compliment from Gibbs seemed to bring the agent back to his senses a little, though the frightful look didn't quite subside.

''I couldn't stop the bleeding, boss…'' McGee shuddered, swallowing thickly. ''I kept the pressure on it like you said but it just wouldn't stop!''

''You did what you could.'' Gibbs reassured him. He took a sharp turn to the left and accelerated so quickly on the near enough empty road that the force pushed McGee back in his seat. ''DiNozzo will be fine.'' He wasn't sure if those words were to reassure the younger agent next to him, or himself.

It took them 20 minutes to reach Bethesda hospital where it should have taken them almost double that time. Both agents jumped out of the car and rushed towards the entrance. Once inside, Gibbs flashed his badge at the nurse at reception, demanding to speak to whoever was responsible for his agent.

''What is the agent's name?'' She asked nervously, tucking a strand of hair back behind her ear. She quickly did a search on her computer as soon as Gibbs gave her Tony's name, his gut churning when she frowned.

''Ehm…'' The young nurse began nervously, glancing at the agents in front of her, both of which she noted were covered in blood. ''I- could you spell out his name for me, please?''

''Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo, Jr.'' Gibbs growled impatiently. ''Big 'D', little 'I', big 'N', little 'ozzo'.''

The nurse ran another search, feeling the glare from the senior agent with every letter she typed.

''I'm terribly sorry, Agent Gibbs,'' She stammered anxiously. ''I've triple checked now, but there is no Agent DiNozzo who has been brought in to Bethesda.''


	2. Chapter 2

Nothing made sense anymore. Gibbs had brought the nurse who had had the misfortune of being on reception that day close to tears when Ducky had stepped in and kindly asked the girl to speak to her supervisor.

However, after a thorough search, including checking any John Doe's that had been admitted that day, they had come up with nothing. Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo had not been brought in.

An even more thorough search brought them even more questions. Gibbs had tried to send McGee home for the day, but the junior agent had stood his ground and insisted in helping them find their missing colleague. Gibbs had been impressed by McGee's determination, but ordered him to at least take a shower and get changed into less bloody clothes.

Although it made his stomach churn, Gibbs decided to bag McGee's clothes along with his own bloody shirt as evidence, though evidence of _what_ he wasn't too sure. That Tony had indeed been there? That they hadn't all imagined it all, and that Tony had indeed been shot whilst pushing Gibbs out of the line of fire?

Suppressing his sense of guilt over DiNozzo's injury, Gibbs had given McGee and Abby the task of checking in with every last hospital and medical clinic in DC for someone matching Tony's description. They also tried to see if they could track DiNozzo's phone via GPS, but to no avail.

Ziva had been brought up to speed the moment she had finished at the crime scene, and had joined in the search for their missing agent.

They all felt a sense of urgency: though no one dared to say it out loud, they all knew how much blood their agent had already lost and how every minute that passed slimmed their chances of finding DiNozzo alive.

Minutes had turned into hours, and Gibbs was growing more and more frustrated. Vance had demanded an update every hour and had already called in the FBI since, much to Gibbs' annoyance, they were in charge if a federal agent went missing.

It was when the FBI revealed that there was no record of the backup call his team had made that things got truly confusing.

''What do you mean?'' Ziva began, having just ended her phone call to yet another clinic. ''You always record emergency calls, yes?''

''If we hadn't made the call, there would have been no local LEOs or paramedics at the scene! We definitely called it in!'' McGee added nervously, feeling responsible, as he had been the one to make the call.

''I don't know what to tell you,'' Fornell shrugged his shoulders apologetically. ''There's no record of the call, nor is there any record of local LEOs or paramedics heading to the harbour today.''

His heart sinking, Gibbs quickly strode through the bullpen, opting for the stairs rather than waiting for the lift.

''Gibbs, where are you going?'' Fornell called after him, watching as Ziva and McGee jumped up from their desks and followed their boss towards the exit.

''Back to the crime scene, where else?'' Gibbs growled, going down the stairs two steps at a time. Fornell sighed, but he had to agree that everything about this day seemed- how did Abby say it? Hinky.

The drive to the harbour had been completely silent safe from the rain that had started to pour down halfway through the journey, with each agent going over the events of that day, hoping to suddenly be able to fit the puzzle pieces together. Even Fornell, who wasn't quite as used to Gibbs' driving as the other two in the car, had remained quiet until they reached the harbour.

''What the hell?'' Fornell slammed the door to the car shut, looking expectantly from one agent to the other. The FBI agent prayed that this had all been a horrible prank on his behalf; that DiNozzo would appear from behind one of the containers, laughing as he filmed Fornell's reaction. One glance at the rest of the MCRT proved that his prayers would not be answered.

They all stood still, eyes wide. A few hours ago, they had arrested Lieutenant Murdock roughly 300 meters from where they were currently stood. They had been shot at, had looked after DiNozzo's gun shot wound and had killed three other assailants.

There should be local LEOs guarding the crime scene, yellow tape surrounding the containers and chalk lines where Lieutenant Murdock and the three shooters had been.

So why was there not a trace of their turbulent day left in sight?


	3. Chapter 3

''Gibbs, I-'' Ziva stammered, walking closer to where they had been pinned down during the shooting as if the crime scene would suddenly reappear. ''I worked the scene with them!''

''I know.'' Gibbs responded curtly, walking past her towards the container. Turning around the corner, his fears were confirmed. The blood that had been there mere hours before, _Tony's_ blood was gone. He crouched down; sweeping his fingers over the ground and against the container in the hope that there would be something, anything, left.

''This does not make any sense!'' Ziva shouted in frustration. ''Crime scenes do not just disappear! _Agents_ do not just disappear!''

''Boss?'' McGee looked like he was shaking again, though Gibbs also noted a hint of anger in the man's eyes. ''What do we do now?''

''Work the scene.'' Gibbs stood up again, turning to face his junior agents. ''Someone is trying their best to cover up what happened here, so we'll try our damndest to find out who and why.''

Ziva and McGee nodded at each other in agreement and hurried back to the car to grab their kit. They weren't sure what they could find, if there was anything to find at all, but they were determined to try. They would collect samples of the dirt for Abby to analyse; they would bag and tag anything that seemed even slightly out of place.

''Gibbs?'' Fornell dared to get closer to the NCIS agent. He knew Gibbs would never admit it, but Tony DiNozzo had gotten under his skin, and Fornell could see the toll not having the agent by his side was taking on his friend. ''It is starting to get late. I understand that you want to find your man, but you're not going to be able to find anything in the dark.''

''We can't leave, Fornell!'' Gibbs lashed out. Realising his anger was not with the FBI agent, Gibbs took a deep breath. ''You weren't there. He was bleeding out and now he's missing and someone is trying to make it look like none of this ever happened.''

Fornell swallowed around the lump that was forming in his throat. Damn, maybe Tony had not just gotten under Gibbs' skin. Letting out an exasperated sigh, Fornell reached for his phone.

''It's me,'' He began, and Gibbs watched the FBI agent curiously. ''I'm going to need a team out at the harbour. And bring tents and floodlights: we're not leaving until we've turned over every last bit of dirt in this place.''

It was well past midnight by the time Gibbs walked down the stairs to his basement. As they'd feared, the search that night had brought up nothing. They had collected soil samples for Abby to analyse and had taken photos of the area, but there had been no new clues as to where Tony could be.

Gibbs had been reluctant to send his agents home, but the dark bags under their eyes and the exhaustion from that day had not gone unnoticed. Still, going home did not mean he needed to go to bed; he doubted he would be able to sleep anyway.

Instead, Gibbs grabbed a mug and sat down on the workbench, pouring himself a liberal cup of scotch. The amber liquid burned down his throat, and for a moment he closed his eyes and tried to release some of the tension in his shoulders.

''Where the hell are you, DiNozzo?'' Gibbs muttered, half hoping for his SFA to respond.

For the next few days their luck did not change. Abby had done all she could: she had run over what meagre evidence they had but had come up with nothing concrete. She'd been in tears when the tests revealed that the blood on Gibbs and McGee's clothes was indeed Tony's. The only reason that Gibbs had made her run the tests was to give Vance enough evidence to justify the search for their missing agent, as every day seemed to bring them more mysteries.

If the imaginary LEOs and paramedics had not been bad enough, the SD card that Ziva had used while initially working the crime scene had somehow been corrupted. No matter how much McGee and Abby tried, they could not recover a single image.

If there had been any strand of hair or flake of skin left behind at the harbour, they had been washed away with the rain or blown away by the wind before Fornell's team had arrived with the tents and floodlights.

Gibbs truly felt like he was losing his mind when he received word that any and all records about Lieutenant Murdock had been erased. From his records of his service in the navy to his birth certificate: it was as if Lieutenant Murdock had never existed.

Not only that, but the money and weapons that Murdock had stolen had been retrieved in full, and the navy was writing the case off as ''a serious fault in administration''.

It was when this had happened that Vance had called Gibbs into his office and had mentioned ending the investigation.

''I was not born yesterday, Gibbs,'' He'd put up his hand to stop the man from interrupting him. ''I know Agent DiNozzo did not just vanish, nor do I believe it for a second that your team had been sent on a wild goose chase during your last case.''

''So why are we wasting our time talking about this when I should be out there looking for my agent?!'' Gibbs snapped back, ready to storm back out of the office. Vance met his glare with a glare of his own.

''And where exactly would you go?'' He asked patiently, arching a brow. ''Last I heard you have no leads.''

Gibbs gritted his teeth. He knew he was stuck, but he could not get the image of DiNozzo grabbing his arm before losing consciousness out of his head. He knew that it was a fool's hope, but his gut told him that his agent was still alive, and Gibbs would not rest until he found him.

''I cannot allow you to continue this unless I have some concrete _proof_ that one of our agents is in danger.'' Vance looked at Gibbs expectantly, waiting for the penny to drop. He did not have to wait long.

''I'll get you your damn proof.'' And with that, Gibbs had slammed the door to the office shut behind him and had gone down to Abby's lab.

It had taken Abby no time to come up with the DNA results from the blood on McGee's and Gibbs' clothes, and Gibbs gave her a peck on the top of her head to thank her for providing him with the evidence he needed.

He'd been slightly taken aback when the Goth leapt into his arms, though perhaps he shouldn't have been. Abby's shoulders were shaking as she fought to hold back the tears, her face buried in Gibbs' shirt.

Gibbs sighed. He was not the only person worried sick about Tony, and he really needed to keep reminding himself of that little fact. Ziva and McGee had been working tirelessly, putting out BOLOs and calling anyone who might bring them a step closer to the truth. They had started every day at the break of dawn without a single complaint and continued until Gibbs ordered them to get some rest.

Even Ducky and Palmer had been making daily phone calls to clinics and hospitals in the hope that their agent would make an appearance. Gibbs had even bumped into Jimmy at Tony's apartment door. Apparently Tony had given Palmer a spare key to his apartment when he needed someone to feed his fish Kate, but had told the autopsy Gremlin to keep it in the end.

''In case I ever needed someone to talk to. Or if I just want to watch a film.'' Palmer had explained.

Glancing over to the bin in the corner of the lab, Gibbs cringed slightly at the amount of CafPow cups. Abby and Tony's relationship was one he could only describe as 'siblings'. Tony had flirted with Abby when they first met, but never quite in the same way as he did with other women. DiNozzo was always protective of Abby: Gibbs knew Tony secretly hated the clubs Abby went to, but he tagged along to keep her safe.

Likewise, Gibbs thought, Abby could read Tony better than anyone else; him included. And Tony let down his guards when he was around her; he accepted her love and affection in a heartbeat, and she his.

''Gibbs, what if it's too late?'' Abby choked up as she spoke her mind, looking at Gibbs pleadingly. ''There's so much blood on McGee's clothes, what if he's already-?'' She could not get herself to finish that sentence.

Gibbs pulled her tighter into the embrace, leaning his chin on her head as she buried her face in his shirt once more.

''He's not gone.'' Gibbs' voice was just above a whisper, but the words felt like they echoed through the lab. He had no way to prove that it was not too late, but there was one thing he trusted more than anything: his gut. And right now, it was telling him that there was still time.

''We'll find him.'' He assured her. She pulled away from the hug to look into Gibbs' eyes, his determination filling her with new hope. ''We'll bring him home.''


	4. Chapter 4

Gibbs handed Fornell a large paper cup of coffee, taking a swig from his own brew. The FBI agent thanked him, warming up his hands on the drink.

A lot had changed in 7 weeks, 3 days, and 15 hours: the air was crisp, and most people were preparing themselves for a white Christmas. There were market stalls selling mulled wine everywhere around DC, and the streets were richly decorated with lights and other ornaments.

People were phoning up their families and friends, thanking them for being in their lives and arranging to meet up over the holidays. Shops were even more packed than usual, and on nearly every corner stood a man in a red suit collecting money for one charity or another.

'T is the season to be jolly, or so the songs said. Gibbs had simply become more frustrated with every passing day. Crime, although mostly petty, often increased around the holidays. He could usually cope with the added pressure, but this year was different. After all, it had been 7 weeks, 3 days, and 15 hours since his Very Special Agent had gone missing, and they hadn't gotten any closer to finding him.

''Well?'' Gibbs asked impatiently when Fornell seemed perfectly content simply drinking his coffee. ''I doubt you called me out here to exchange Christmas cards.''

''Why, did you get me one?'' Fornell teased half-heartedly. Seeing Gibbs' less than impressed glare, the FBI agent cleared his throat. ''I don't know how to put this.''

Gibbs' eyes darkened. He knew what Fornell was about to tell him, he even understood why, but it still felt too soon.

Vance had put his team back on rotation after a month, arguing that he could not afford to lose an entire team to an investigation that was 'going nowhere'. Although it had been true that they had no leads to follow up on, Gibbs had used a few very creative insults that day that would have undoubtedly amused his SFA.

''It's not been two months yet.'' Gibbs growled, knowing that once again his anger was misplaced. ''Didn't know the FBI gave up on federal agents that quickly.''

''Never said I was giving up.'' Fornell retorted, to Gibbs' surprise. ''But until we get any new leads, I'm afraid I need to start working on different cases as well.''

Gibbs reluctantly nodded in agreement. He could not expect Fornell and his team to keep focusing solely on his missing agent, but it still rubbed him the wrong way. It was as if the rest of the world was ready to move on, to continue life without annoying movie references or silly pranks. Gibbs wasn't quite ready to take that step yet.

'''I'm sorry, Gibbs.'' Fornell said morosely.

'Thanks.'' He wasn't sure what he was thanking Fornell for, but it seemed like the right thing to say. Throwing his empty coffee cup into a nearby bin, Gibbs uttered a half-hearted ''Merry Christmas'' before he walked away.

Gibbs couldn't bring himself to focus on the sanding that night. He'd been building a range of small wooden toys: a tradition he'd begun ever since he'd found out Tony delivered toys to the kids at Bethesda each Christmas.

Instead he turned to the files sprawled over his workspace and pinned to the walls. He had gone over the information countless times and knew most of it by heart.

''Woah.'' Gibbs instinctively reached for his weapon, causing his visitor to hold up his hands and whimper. ''It's me!''

"Jesus, Palmer, do you _want_ to get shot?!'' Gibbs lowered his gun and picked up the nearest liquor bottle, taking a swig.

''No! Of course not! It's just that the front door was open just like Ducky told me and I thought you heard me knock but I guess I-'' Realising that he was rambling, the young man stood nervously on the stairs, pushing his glasses further up his nose.

''I uhh- Like I said, Ducky told me your door is always open…'' He seemed somewhat embarrassed, pursing his lips and taking a deep breath before he continued. ''Since Tony's not around, I guess I just sort of needed somewhere to go. I can leave again if now's not a good time?''

Gibbs sighed wearily. He never meant to scare Palmer away. He'd become a close friend to Tony; of course he would be missing him. He gestured for Jimmy to come on down, and the young man gratefully obliged.

Gibbs poured them both a mug of scotch while Jimmy walked closer, viewing the files on the walls. He paused for a moment in front of the images of Gibbs' and McGee's clothes, a hint of sorrow flashing through his eyes.

Palmer accepted the mug from Gibbs and to the agent's surprise; he downed half the drink in one go.

''Ducky's got a fair collection of his own.'' Palmer explained with a shrug. Gibbs couldn't help the faint smile that pulled at his lips.

''Agent Gibbs?'' Palmer turned to him more seriously, settling in a wooden chair not too far away from Gibbs.

''Hmm?''

''Do you think Tony's still alive?''

For a moment, Gibbs was shocked. Plenty of people had asked him the same question, though none of them had had the courage to phrase it that bluntly.

''I do.'' Gibbs decided to reciprocate the openness with which Jimmy spoke. The young man was known to not really have a verbal filter and often rambled on unnecessarily, but Gibbs finally understood why both DiNozzo and Ducky were so fond of him: With Palmer's rambling came a sense of honesty and candidness.

The two sat in companionable silence for a while before a low growl of Jimmy's stomach interrupted the quiet. The young man blushed, idly playing with the mug in his hands.

Realising that he had not eaten for a good ten hours himself, Gibbs told Palmer to make himself comfortable while he disappeared up the stairs and into the kitchen.

Rummaging through the fridge and cupboards, Gibbs made a mental note to buy some groceries after work the next day. He grabbed a frying pan and whisked the last three eggs together with a bit of milk and some cheese. He flipped the omelette over and placed two slices of bread into the toaster.

A few minutes later, Gibbs walked back into the basement and passed Palmer a plate. The young man had been reading some of the files when Gibbs came down the stairs, but had quickly put the papers to the side when the agent had offered him food.

''So what happened?'' Jimmy asked in between mouthfuls, downing the egg and toast with a swig of scotch.

''What do you mean?'' Gibbs responded confused, arching a brow.

''S'rry,'' Palmer quickly swallowed his next bite. ''I don't really get to see the statements unless they're relevant for our autopsy. I just, well, it says in your statement there that Tony said something was wrong. What did you get wrong?''

Gibbs' eyes went wide. He had thought about Tony's words before: somehow, he had concluded that Tony had been panicking about his own blood loss; that the 'wrong' was that he was about to pass out. It hadn't occurred to him that Tony could have been saying that _they_ had made a mistake.

The senior agent slammed his plate on the table and snatched up his own witness statement, along with Ziva's and McGee's. Reading them again carefully, his blood ran cold as he went over their conversation. DiNozzo had been panicking, but not because he was about to pass out: he'd been trying to warn them.

''There was someone else!''


	5. Chapter 5

''There has to be _something!_ '' It had been another two weeks since Palmer had visited the basement, and though he'd provided them with a new angle, the dead ends just kept piling up.

If Gibbs was right, and there had been someone else at the scene, then the key to finding out what had happened lay with them. Considering this, Gibbs had made it their priority to figure out the identity of their assailants.

McGee had started to retrace their steps, going back over their most recent case. Although the files on Lieutenant Murdock were gone, they relied on each other's memories and notes to create a complete case file.

In the meantime, Ziva had sat down with a sketch artist: she had been the one to verify the deaths of three of their attackers. She had then handed these sketches over to Abby, who was running them through facial recognition programs in the hope for a hit. If they could identify their disappeared John Does, perhaps they could get a lead on who else had been at the scene.

Gibbs had once more tried to interview the marines who had been involved in the investigation, but much to his annoyance, not even his famous glare had worked on them. Each person he phoned and visited had shut him down, and eventually Vance had put an end to the interviews when he'd received a complaint.

''You cannot go around interviewing people about a closed case.'' The director had reprimanded regrettably. ''I'm sorry Gibbs, but you'll have to find another way to investigate this, and in your _own time._ ''

When the facial recognition scans had come back negative, the agent had snapped. Standing her ground, Abby had squared her shoulders and put her hands on her hips, huffing back at him.

''You're not the only one who's frustrated, Gibbs.'' She met his gaze with tears in her eyes, but she refused to back off. ''Finding evidence for you is my job and I'm _failing!_ ''

Seeing Abby this despondent was like a punch to his stomach. Gibbs hadn't realised how personal Abby had taken the lack of evidence. Then again, Abby always spoke to her equipment as if they were her team, and her faith in science was unwavering.

''I can't find even the slightest part of a print, or a microscopic drop of blood.'' Her shoulders had long since slumped, and she leaned back against her desk, her head hanging. Gibbs was about to approach her when she perked up again, a flicker of a 'Eureka' moment flashing through her eyes. ''Why do you suppose that is?''

Before Gibbs could answer the Goth leapt up, pacing back and forth as she rambled on.

''I don't like to brag, Gibbs, but I'm good at my job! Like _damn good!_ If there's any evidence there to find I will find it, you know that, right?''

''I-''

''Right! So we _know_ there's no evidence, but that's the thing: There's no such thing as 'no evidence'! Not after a shooting with four people dead and one injured!''

''Your _point,_ Abs?'' Gibbs couldn't quite follow her reasoning, much to the Goth's annoyance.

''My _point,_ Gibbs, is that the lack of evidence is evidence enough.'' Again she looked at him expectantly, nearly bouncing as she continued her reasoning when he did not seem to catch on. ''How many people do you know with the skills and resources to completely _erase_ a crime scene?''

''You think-'' Gibbs' blood was boiling, the pieces falling into place. Looking back at everything that had happened, it should have been obvious.

''We're up against an agency.''

Vance had just gotten off the phone with the director of the FBI when Gibbs stormed into his office, his jaw set and eyes glowing with rage.

''Do you _know_ where he is?!'' The agent snarled dangerously, his entire body tense as he impatiently awaited an answer.

Vance waved for the young girl who had anxiously followed Gibbs into the office to leave. She muttered an apology for being unable to stop the man from barging in, but Vance seriously doubted if there was anyone who could have stopped Gibbs at this stage.

''Have a seat, Agent Gibbs.'' Vance responded calmly, gesturing at the chair opposite him.

''I said do you know where he is?!'' Gibbs repeated, clenching his fists.

''And I said have a seat, Agent Gibbs.'' The director retorted unfazed.

''Damn it, Leon, I don't have time for this!'' Gibbs snapped again. ''Did you allow someone to _borrow_ my agent?''

Vance's eyes darkened and he stood up slowly, his own anger bubbling dangerously close to the surface.

''Borrow?'' The disgust that Gibbs had felt was echoed in Vance's question. ''Agent Gibbs, do you think someone _borrowed_ your agent?''

''Wouldn't be the first time.'' Gibbs' words were ice cold. Although he would be the first to admit that Tony had a talent for undercover work, it bothered him that the agent had sometimes been used for cases that his team had not been involved in. _Especially_ when he had not been informed of the matter.

DiNozzo had often worked around the clock, keeping up his job as Gibbs' SFA while doing undercover work on the side. And on more than one occasion, it had nearly cost him his life.

Vance took a deep breath. He knew that Gibbs had his reasons to question him personally; as his predecessor had withheld the fact that Tony had been working undercover for her until it was almost too late.

''I do not know Agent DiNozzo's whereabouts.'' He stated matter-of-factly. ''You think another agency has 'recruited' him?''

If it were true, then Gibbs would not be the only one on a warpath. Federal agencies were competitive, but ultimately they all needed to work together. If someone had taken an injured agent without going through the proper procedures, there would be hell to pay.

''The evidence is that there _is_ no evidence.''

Vance raised a brow.

''Abby?''

''She's _damn good_ at her job.'' Gibbs shrugged.

Vance sat back down behind his desk, contemplating everything that had happened.

''I'll make a few calls.'' He finally decided, leaning forward in his chair. ''I will let you know if I find anything.''

Gibbs nodded.

''Agent Gibbs?'' Vance called before the man left his office. ''These are some serious allegations. I expect something a little more _concrete_ than 'the evidence is that there is no evidence'.''

Gibbs scoffed, but then nodded once more before walking out the door. He was getting closer to getting his agent back. He could feel it. So why was his gut still churning?


	6. Chapter 6

It was all his fault. If only he had noticed the assailants sooner, if only he hadn't gotten shot, if only he had not lost consciousness before he could warn his team.

The first thing he had noticed when he woke up had not been the dull ache in his leg, but the fact that the room was empty. Sure, there were the usual items: heart monitor, an IV drip; even the nightstand complete with a remote control to the bed and a button to call the nurse.

What made him anxious was that there was no McGee and Ziva bickering about god knows what; no Ducky reciting one of his experiences to a nurse; no Abby who had curled up in bed next to him; no Gibbs, silently sipping his coffee as he watched over him.

He turned his head towards the door at the sound of footsteps getting closer. Perhaps he'd over reacted; perhaps Gibbs had just gone to get his umpteenth refill of coffee. Still, something felt very wrong, though he couldn't quite figure out what.

''Agent DiNozzo.'' Tony's gut was screaming by the time the stranger had entered his room. The man was dressed in an expensive looking suit- Armani, if DiNozzo had to guess. His dark hair was short and neatly styled, complimenting the man's sharp jaw line. He reminded Tony a bit of a young Boris Karloff. ''I'm glad to see you awake. How are you feeling?''

''Just peachy.'' Tony mumbled sarcastically, licking his lips. The man grabbed a glass of water and a straw from the bedside table and held it out for Tony to drink. Hesitantly, DiNozzo put the straw between his lips, eyeing the man carefully as he took a sip.

''Allow me to introduce myself,'' The man placed the glass back on the side and reached into his suit jacket. Tony wasn't too surprised when the man held up a badge, though it did not calm his nerves. ''Special Agent Benjamin Chapman, CIA.''

''To what do I owe the pleasure, Special Agent Chapman?'' DiNozzo tried his best to hide his growing sense of dread. Waking up alone in a hospital was bad enough, waking up with a CIA agent visiting made him fear for the worst.

''I'm sorry to be the bearer or bad news,'' At those words, Tony's heart truly sank. This could not be happening, not now, not ever. The room seemed to spin and a chill settled deep within his bones as the agent confirmed his greatest fears. ''It seems backup did not arrive in time. Our investigation confirms that a fourth assailant had caught your team off guard while they were performing first aid on you.''

Tony remembered the sense of dread he had felt when Ziva had confirmed only _three_ assailants dead. When he had been shot, he had been out in the open, which allowed him a clear view of their attackers. He'd counted four, and he hadn't been able to tell his boss.

He'd tried to warn Gibbs, but at the time he had already lost too much blood: despite his claims that 'DiNozzos don't pass out'; Tony had passed out before he could alert his friends of the danger they were in.

''…They're gone?'' Tony barely registered the tremor in his voice. It wasn't just his voice: his entire body was shaking, shock quickly setting in.

''I'm sorry for your loss.'' Agent Chapman responded sincerely, allowing the NCIS agent a moment to take in the news. He grabbed a nearby chair and pulled it closer to the bed. He put the badge he'd been holding onto back into his pocket, waiting patiently.

''Isn't it the FBI's job to take witness statements?'' Tony asked after a few minutes. In that short time, DiNozzo's eyes had gone cold, as if a piece of his soul had died with the devastating news. Still, Agent Chapman noted, there was a sharpness in his gaze that the man admired.

''I'm not here for your statement.'' Chapman waited for Tony to meet his eyes, leaning forward in his chair and lowering his voice. ''I'm here to offer you a chance to seek justice.''

''I'm not following.'' Tony frowned, shifting slightly in his bed to get a better look at the CIA agent. ''Did you not arrest the fourth assailant?''

''I'm afraid he'd already escaped by the time we arrived at the scene,'' Chapman explained apologetically. ''But we are on the lookout for him. He will not be able to buy so much as a candy bar without us knowing.''

''Then why haven't you caught him yet?!'' Tony snapped, anger rising to the surface. His team, his friends, his _family,_ was gone, and the thought of the culprit walking around freely made him sick to his stomach.

''Because, Agent DiNozzo, he is part of a much larger picture.''

Tony gaped at Chapman.

''A bigger fish?'' DiNozzo cursed how weak he currently felt. If it weren't for the painkillers still running through his veins, he would have lunged at Chapman by now. ''What exactly is more important to the CIA than catching the killer of three federal agents?!''

''A terrorist group responsible for the deaths of hundreds of people, _including_ federal agents.'' Chapman stated matter-of-factly.

DiNozzo stared at him blankly. Thinking carefully, he remembered that they never discovered whom Lieutenant Murdock had been trying to sell the stolen weapons to. Had they truly stumbled across a terrorist organisation without realising it?

Tony eyed Chapman carefully. If he was telling the truth, then the agent in him understood why they were waiting to make an arrest. They could not risk blowing up a larger operation. Another part of Tony didn't care. His entire world had just come crashing down, and he wanted nothing more than to watch whoever killed his family take their final breath.

''You said you could give me a chance to seek justice?'' Tony asked after a while. He felt exhausted and hollow; like someone had carved a hole deep within him that he somehow needed to fill again. Chapman nodded.

''Right now, they believe that Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo died at the harbour shooting.'' He explained, leaning back into the chair. ''This can work to our advantage. There's a division within the CIA called Ghost Ops.''

''Ghost Ops?'' Tony repeated incredulously. ''Isn't that a Call of Duty game?''

''That would just be Ghosts.'' Agent Chapman retorted unfazed. ''Though you're not far off: Ghost Ops are trained special agents that are 'off the radar': by stripping them of their true identity, they can become anyone, or no one, and gain access to intel that we normally would not be able to retrieve.''

Though the thought of being stripped of his identity made his skin crawl, Tony did not have to think long about his options. Still, there was one thing he needed to know.

''What about Abby?'' He began sadly, already anticipating the answer. ''And Ducky, and Palmer?''

''At this moment, they all believe you died along with your team.'' Again Tony felt like he was going to be sick. ''These guys have been unforgiving: they wouldn't let a witness escape. If you returned to them now, they might become targets as well.''

After what felt like an eternity, Tony took a deep breath and nodded. He hated the thought of lying to them, but if he wanted justice for Ziva, McGee and Gibbs, he had to do this.

''Where do we start?'' He asked.

Agent Chapman stood up from his chair and placed a firm hand on Tony's shoulder, squeezing it reassuringly.

''We start by getting you better.''


	7. Chapter 7

There it was again. He increased the speed on the treadmill once more, focussing on his breath with each step. He had to keep his mind clear, had to keep himself away from that nagging feeling deep inside.

''Your stamina is coming along nicely.'' Looking up, DiNozzo saw Chapman in the doorway. The agent tossed a towel his way once DiNozzo stepped off the machine.

It had been just over four weeks since Tony had woken up. In those four weeks, he'd discovered three things: Firstly, he had not been in a hospital.

He had half heartedly joked how he did not recognize any of the (two) nurses who had been caring for him, after which Chapman had explained that they had taken him to a private facility for CIA agents. Turns out that with the amount of undercover ops they did, the CIA had built its own covert hospital, though he had refused to reveal their exact location.

Secondly: the CIA has access to things DiNozzo could only qualify as 'Bond gadgets'. When Chapman had told him that they would ''get him better'', DiNozzo had expected a couple of months of intensive physiotherapy. He had been more than a little hesitant when Chapman had then arranged for the doctor to come in with a syringe.

''It's just something to help speed up the healing process.'' Chapman had explained matter-of-factly. ''It will also help you build your strength. A bit like steroids, minus the side effects.''

DiNozzo had been wary of the injections, but he had to admit that the effects were clear as day. Not only had the hole in his leg healed up nicely, he had increased his stamina and strength through the still highly intensive physio the CIA was putting him through.

As of last week, he had been training in hand to hand combat with Agent Chapman, who apparently had a body made of steel hidden underneath his suits. DiNozzo had sadly noted that, had Chapman and Gibbs ever been in a fistfight, he was not entirely sure his boss would have been able to take him on. Hell, at this stage, Ziva would have a run for her money.

And that led him to his third discovery of the week: unsurprisingly, DiNozzo could not get his teammates out of his mind. The thought of them dying all because he'd gotten shot was eating him up inside, but there was something else. He could not quite figure it out, but his gut was nagging at him, telling him something was _off._ His gut had never been quite as good as Gibbs', but he trusted his instincts nonetheless.

''Guess your Super Soldier Serum really helps.'' DiNozzo caught the towel and wiped the sweat from his face before reaching for his water bottle. Before he could take a sip, he caught a shadow moving in the corner of his eye.

''Lets see how your combat skills are coming along.'' Agent Chapman grinned as Tony blocked the attack. It made DiNozzo's skin crawl. The nagging feeling never truly faded, but it was like his gut was screaming when he looked at Special Agent Benjamin Chapman.

There was something about the man's eyes: like he was looking into an abyss, like if he looked for too long, the man would swallow him whole.

Still, Tony decided that the best course of action right now was to go along with everything until he got a better understanding of what was making him so uneasy. Or so his gut told him. God, he was turning into Gibbs.

So he blocked the next punch and countered with a left hook. Chapman dodged and pulled away slightly, alerting DiNozzo of the kick that would follow. Tony increased the distance between them, but still got grazed by the other agent's foot.

Their sparring match continued on until Tony managed to get Chapman to lose his balance and pinned him against a nearby wall. Both agents were out of breath, though Tony begrudgingly noted that Chapman had hardly broken a sweat.

''I'd say I'm getting better.'' Tony quipped finally, still holding the other man against the wall.

''You sure about that?'' At that, Tony felt a light prod against his leg. Looking down, he noticed that Chapman had a gun aimed not too far off from his most recent scar.

''No fair.'' He huffed annoyed, releasing the agent.

''No such thing as a fair fight out in the field.'' Chapman shrugged nonchalantly, putting away his gun and readjusting his tie.

DiNozzo sighed and picked up the water bottle he'd previously dropped on the floor.

''I doubt you came here just to kick my ass again.'' Tony eyed the agent questioningly, taking a sip. Chapman cleared his throat, wiping a speck of dust from his immaculate suit.

''We have a lead.'' He responded calmly, meeting Tony's gaze. ''It's time we set this operation in motion.''

DiNozzo swallowed past the lump in his throat. He had been cooped up in this place for over a month, and the thought of going outside to hunt for the terrorists who had taken his family away from him was, for lack of a better word, overwhelming.

Perhaps he would finally get the answers he longed for. He needed to know _exactly_ what had happened, and Special Agent Chapman had been less than cooperative in that department.

Benjamin Chapman urged DiNozzo to follow him through the maze that he had nicknamed their _CIA Batcave_. He was guided into a large conference room not too far from the training rooms he'd been to.

In the centre was a large black table with leather seats donned around it. The walls were dark blue and devoid of any decorations. On the wall on the right hand side was a large monitor, on which DiNozzo saw three images displayed.

The first picture was of a middle-aged man with short, light blond hair and bright blue eyes. From what he could tell, the man had a slight build. The second was of a larger posture and had dark brown hair and chestnut eyes. He seemed to be slightly younger than the first man, but their expressions were equally grave.

It was the third image that made Tony's blood run cold. The man was about his age and had brown, curly hair. He was roughly the same build as DiNozzo: lean but muscular. His eyes were dark and emotionless, and DiNozzo vividly remembered seeing those same eyes on him at the harbour.

''Him.'' Tony spat, pointing at the third image. He gritted his teeth as he remembered the man: it had only been an instant, but he would never forget it. He had been there that day, along with three other assailants.

''His name is Daniel Rovik, 30 years old.'' Chapman began, clicking a button to enlarge the image on the screen. ''We identified him as one of three captains within this group. These three men are responsible for fifteen domestic terror attacks, not counting the ones the CIA managed to stop.''

''Fifteen?'' Tony repeated shocked. ''How come I haven't heard anything about this until now?''

''We have intercepted any communication attempts with the media to avoid mass panic.'' Chapman explained. ''I believe I told you before that they are responsible for hundreds of deaths, including those of federal agents?''

Tony nodded solemnly.

''Every time we've gotten close they've managed to get the drop on us.'' Chapman gritted his teeth begrudgingly. ''Good agents have lost their lives chasing these guys down, but to no avail.''

''But you think this new team can?'' DiNozzo questioned seriously. Agent Chapman nodded.

''With the right training, I believe we have a chance to succeed.''

Tony took a deep breath. His gut was churning uncomfortably, telling him that Chapman was still not telling him everything. Still, he'd come this far by playing along; he would have to see it through to get the answers he longed for.

''So what's next?'' Chapman smirked faintly.

''Next we get you to infiltrate their ranks.''


	8. Chapter 8

Tony stared at him blankly.

''You're joking, right?'' Tony laughed nervously, his smile fading when Chapman didn't waver.

''Daniel Rovik has seen my face! My cover would be blown in an instant!''

''Which is why we'll have you take his place.'' Chapman replied matter-of-factly.

''I'm sorry?''

''You wanted revenge, did you not?'' Benjamin turned around and picked up a file Tony hadn't previously noticed. ''Daniel Rovik is one of three captains, but that's as far as we've gotten. We have no idea as to the identity of their leader.''

Chapman placed two more images on the table, and Tony had to swallow back the bile at the sight: Two men were shown on the pictures, bloody and beaten. He could see one of them was missing an eye, whereas the other was missing several fingers.

''They were captains for the same group.'' Chapman announced, pointing at the one with the missing eye. ''Daniel Rovik killed his captain when we intercepted one of their attacks, blaming him for the 'oversight' in their plans.''

Catching on, DiNozzo's head snapped up.

''That's your lead.'' He began. ''You've figured out where Rovik's going to strike next and you want me to kill him and take over as captain?''

''Exactly.'' Chapman nodded, clicking another button on the remote and directing their attention back to the screen. ''Rovik has been recruiting some extra men from outside the group: that will be your way in. Once we stop the attack, you can move in to take Rovik's place.''

''And why would they trust someone who has not been a member of their terrorist cell to become their new captain?'' DiNozzo retorted sceptically.

''Agent DiNozzo, you're infamous for your undercover operations.'' Chapman smirked arrogantly: it took all Tony's willpower not to smack that grin off his face. ''You've charmed your way into organisations before, this is no different.''

Tony wasn't convinced. What worried him more than the clear lack of a strategy on their part was the casualness with which Agent Chapman spoke of him. It was as if, should he fail, he would just be disposed of. He had realised the danger of joining a 'Ghost Op' before, but until now it had not dawned on him just how little they valued their agents. He was no more than a pawn in their _desperate_ attempts at stopping a terrorist group.

''When?'' Pushing his concerns aside, Tony decided to focus on his own goal: getting answers to what had happened at the harbour. As much as he hated to admit it, following their orders was currently the only way he would achieve that.

''In five weeks.'' Chapman replied simply. ''Meaning that we will need to increase your training if we want you to be ready.''

Tony looked at the image of Daniel Rovik still on the screen and swallowed thickly. In five weeks, he could have a shot at the man who'd taken everything from him.

''Well then lets get started.''

The next five weeks had been more intense than DiNozzo could have ever imagined. They had continued to inject him weekly with the 'Super Soldier Serum', as Tony continued to call it when they refused to actually tell him what it contained.

He had beaten his personal records on the treadmill time and time again, and he was pleased to discover Agent Chapman now had to change into clothes that would provide him a bit more movement when sparring with him.

With just four weeks to go, they had started his weapon training, introducing him to weaponry that would have made Ziva drool. He had increased his skills with close range weapons such as knives and daggers, but a new talent he had discovered was his sniping.

Although his skills did not even come close to Gibbs', he couldn't help but wonder if his boss would have been proud of the shots he'd successfully taken recently.

Before he realised it, his preparation time was up. Tony had been ordered to rest up that day, and he had done so by reading over the case time and time again. He'd memorised the names of every terrorist they had identified thus far and had carefully studied the information they had on the upcoming attack.

After taking a shower, DiNozzo got dressed in dark blue jeans and a black long-sleeved shirt. Looking in the mirror, he ran a hand over the faint stubble on his face. His hair was longer than he'd kept it for years, and he had combed it back to keep it out of his face. He barely recognised the man staring back at him: even he could tell that the sparkle he'd always had in his eyes had faded completely.

It had been nine weeks since he'd seen anything other than the CIA Batcave, nine weeks since he'd been dragged into this living Hell. Taking a deep breath, he slipped on black socks and black leather ankle boots. It was time.

Benjamin met DiNozzo in the conference room he'd been briefed in five weeks prior. He eyed Tony approvingly before handing him a mobile phone, keys, a knife, and a handgun.

''How are you feeling?'' Chapman asked as Tony slipped the handgun in his holster and hid the knife in his right boot.

''About the way anyone would feel when they're about to infiltrate a terrorist group with no backup.'' Tony retorted, eyeing the keys and phone.

''You're not entirely without backup.'' Chapman tried to reassure him, but it did little to ease DiNozzo's nerves. ''We expect you to report back whenever you can, as we explained. If at any stage you feel your cover has been blown, you can call us with that phone, it's a safe line.''

''Lets get this party on the road.'' DiNozzo shrugged on his leather jacket. He followed Chapman out of the room, and for the first time in nine weeks, felt the cold winter air against his face as they walked through another door.

Tony stood still for a moment, eyeing his surroundings disbelievingly. The streets around them were brightly lit with Christmas lights; people were walking by in groups, many of them dressed in glittery dresses and festive blazers. It was New Years Eve, and streets were booming with people looking for a party to attend.

What shocked Tony was how familiar these streets were. He had walked down these streets, he had visited these shops, had partied at these clubs. It was no more than twenty minutes away from the Navy Yard.

''Son of a bitch…'' He laughed half-heartedly. He looked back at the building they had just left and noted how extremely ordinary the place looked. It simply looked like you would find shoddy student apartments inside, not a labyrinth of training and medical rooms. ''You've been hiding in plain sight all this time.''

''This is as far as I'll take you,'' Chapman drew his attention back to him. He had stopped by a matte black Ducati Monster and handed Tony the helmet. ''We will be there to intercept the attack, but I entrust Rovik to you.''

DiNozzo shook the hand that Chapman extended before putting on the helmet and gloves that he found within it. He got on the bike and turned on the engine. It had been years since he'd last ridden a motorcycle, but he still felt comfortable on it.

Over the past five weeks, he had been in contact with Rovik's right hand man: a guy called Charles Douglas, though Tony was only meant to know him as 'The Fox'. They had chatted on a platform numerous times during which Tony had managed to convince the man of two things:

Firstly, Tony had explained to Douglas that he was a former marine who had been dishonourably discharged (Chapman had made sure that the correct files were available for them to find to verify this), and secondly, he had convinced him that he held a grudge against the government (again, the CIA helped him build his case by creating false old statements on various platforms, on which DiNozzo's cover had vented his rage).

Tony Volkov, as DiNozzo had decided to call himself, had managed to stay afloat by working odd jobs, though if anyone looked any further they would realise that these 'odd jobs' often were less than legal.

Douglas had agreed to let Tony in on their upcoming scheme, and DiNozzo was now due to meet them in an hour. They were meeting at Murphy's, an Irish pub in Alexandria. It would take DiNozzo half an hour to get there, which left him with another 30 minutes to scout the area.

The surrounding buildings were low, providing very few vantage points for potential snipers. The location was public, and DiNozzo was well aware of the reasons they had decided to meet there. It served as insurance for DiNozzo that they wouldn't be able to harm or kill him without witnesses, and for Douglas to have plenty of potential hostages around.

DiNozzo parked his bike two blocks away from the pub and sat down in the far right corner of the pub. It was close to the kitchen door, providing him with another escape route, and was well away from the windows.

''What can I get you?'' A young woman with chestnut hair and a million dollar smile asked, holding a pen and paper to take his order.

''You know, I haven't had a Guinness for ages.'' DiNozzo mirrored the smile, and he could see a blush creeping up her cheeks.

''One pint of Guinness, coming right up!'' She was about to twirl around when he stopped her.

''Could you make that two?'' Tony asked quickly. ''I'm waiting for a friend.''

''Sure thing.'' She beamed before hurrying off to fetch his drinks.

DiNozzo looked down at his phone to check the time when someone sat down in front of him. Looking up, Tony faced a middle-aged man with black hair that was starting to grey around the edges. He was wearing half-moon framed glasses and was dressed in a black turtleneck and black trousers.

''Mr. Fox, I presume?''


	9. Chapter 9

Tony leaned back in his chair, slipping his phone back into his coat pocket.

''It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Mr. Volkov.'' The man's voice was low and sweet, and he had a faint accent that told Tony the man had at least lived in the UK before.

''Please, Mr. Volkov was my father; call me Tony.'' DiNozzo responded, smiling at the waitress as she returned with their drinks.

''Well Tony, I'm glad you agreed to meet me here,'' Charles Douglas pulled a manila folder from a briefcase, opening it to reveal an image of Tony in a marine uniform. ''I hope you forgive me for being thorough, but we don't recruit people on a whim.''

Tony could see all the files they'd collected on him, including the fabricated family photos and the report of his 'dishonourable discharge' from the Navy.

''I understand.'' He replied curtly, a small smile remaining on his lips. ''So how did I do?''

''We'd like to give you a chance to prove yourself to us.'' Mr. Fox smiled faintly, his eyes twinkling darkly. ''If you do well today, I shall introduce you to our captains and you will be assigned accordingly.''

Tony met Douglas' gaze. He knew that their next attack was happening tonight, and he had been working hard to weasel his way into the operation, but 'Mr. Fox' had not revealed the date to Volkov yet. He feigned a hint of surprise, but quickly changed it into a grin.

''Ready when you are.'' He almost purred excitedly. As anticipated, Douglas seemed pleased with his response.

''Excellent, if you'd follow me.'' The man stood up and placed some money on the table next to the untouched drinks.

Tony followed Douglas out of the pub and three blocks down, neither one uttering a word. The older man suddenly stopped next to an unmarked car and opened the door, urging DiNozzo to get inside.

Tony obliged and slipped into the back seat. Charles closed the door and slipped into the front passenger seat. He reached into his briefcase and produced a blindfold, which he held out to DiNozzo.

''I hope you understand our cautiousness.'' The man explained expectantly. DiNozzo sighed, but took the blindfold regardless and put it on.

''I understand, doesn't mean I have to like it.'' He shrugged. Not receiving a response, Tony leaned back in the seat and tried to focus as they began to drive away.

''So your father, Mr. Volkov, he was Russian?'' Douglas began casually, but Tony was aware that it was an attempt to distract him from figuring out where they were headed.

''He was born there, but he moved to America when he was 10.'' Tony answered calmly before putting on a Russian accent. ''With nothing more than the clothes on our back!'' He changed his accent again. ''That's what he always told me.''

''How did he feel about you joining the Navy?'' Douglas asked as they turned left. Dinozzo shrugged.

''He died when I was 12, so I wouldn't know.'' Tony knew Douglas was testing to see if his information added up.

''That must have been hard on you and your mother.'' Douglas said sympathetically. Tony sighed.

''I thought you said you'd done your homework on me.'' He replied slightly agitated. ''So you should know that my mother died when I was 8, and that I was sent off to live with several foster families. So can you spare me the 20Q?''

''Very well.'' Douglas snorted amused. ''Lets talk business then.''

As if on queue, the vehicle came to a stop. DiNozzo waited patiently until he heard the door next to him open. He pointed at the blindfold.

''On or off?'' He asked, but quickly felt a hand guide him out of the car. ''On it is.''

He followed the man into a building and heard the door shut behind them. Before he could say anything, the blindfold was removed from his face, and he took a moment to adjust to the light.

They were in a warehouse, and there were at least twenty people there. Tony remained unfazed as they look at him, some of them appeared sympathetic to the way he'd been brought in: other hired guns, Tony suspected.

''Lets get started.'' Douglas moved into the middle of the room, addressing them all. ''There will be three groups; group A will head to Heist, group B to Bliss-''

''We're attacking nightclubs?'' One man interrupted. He was wearing a dark blue hoodie and black jeans that he had tucked into leather boots. He was tall and muscular, with short black hair and dark brown eyes.

Having read about their plans, DiNozzo understood the reasoning behind the plan. They would hit two night clubs at once: both places would be packed with people celebrating the New Year, providing them with a large impact from the start.

Only the clubs weren't the primary target: the emergency responders were. Tony had expected them to not entirely reveal their plans to the hired guns, so he would just have to play along.

''I understand that some of you may have questions,'' Douglas glared at the man, who seemed to realise his mistake for speaking up. ''I assure you that any of the sacrifices we make are for a just cause.''

''That being said,'' He continued. ''Group C will be our getaway team. For all teams there are rules that must be followed at all times. Anyone caught breaking these rules will be disposed off immediately, am I clear?''

They all remained silent, the graveness of what they were about to do sinking in.

''Rule number one: No names. That way _if_ anyone gets caught, the group remains protected.''

Tony glanced around the room as Douglas spoke. All eyes remained on Douglas, but he could easily determine now who was new to the group and who was not.

Those who had been working for the terrorist cell before were listening silently, but nodded along with every word Douglas said, telling Tony they knew the rules already.

The newbies, on the other hand, seemed more skittish. They were all criminals, otherwise they would not have been chosen as hired guns, but that did not necessarily mean they were fully prepared for an actual terrorist attack.

''Rule number two:'' DiNozzo looked back at Douglas, who carried on like he was listing off a shopping list. ''Always go in pairs.''

This rule made sense for Tony in multiple ways: If they paired up a hired gun with a member, it allowed them to keep an eye on the new guys. Not only that, but it begrudgingly reminded him of his work as an agent: never go anywhere without backup.

''Finally, rule number three: don't leave any loose ends.'' A few of the members grinned and frankly it made DiNozzo's skin crawl.

After the briefing, they were split into the three groups and handed unmarked weapons. Each duo was given two handguns, a machine gun, and two knives. Some teams were handed an extra bag, and Tony dreaded what could be within those.

DiNozzo was assigned to the first group and was paired up with a man with blue eyes and long blond hair tied back in a man bun. The man was slightly taller than himself, and his rigid posture reminded him of a soldier.

''Hi, uh-'' DiNozzo eyed the man carefully. ''I'll just call you Thor. I'd hate to just call you 'other guy'.''

DiNozzo grinned, unfazed by the man's stoic expression. Suddenly, the man's expression changed, a small smile tugging at his lips.

''Who does that make you, Loki?'' Tony blinked for a moment, then snorted.

''I was thinking more like Iron Man, but Loki could work.''

''Everyone!'' Douglas called out, drawing their attention back to him. ''I thank you all for your service and for your faith in the cause. Together, we will expose our government's shortcomings to the world.''

''Lets go.'' Thor nudged Tony, who nodded and followed him into the black van. It was December 31st, 11:34pm. In less than thirty minutes, all Hell would break loose.


	10. Chapter 10

Gibbs' rules had been more than a 'code of conduct' for Tony: they had often served as a lifeline. Without rule 9, _never go anywhere without a knife_ , he would not have been able to escape and meet up with Gibbs and Kate when he'd been kidnapped.

Rule 7, _always be specific when you lie_ , had been the very foundation of many of his undercover operations, and this one was no exception. He had bended the line many times, but had never broken it: _rule 14._

Right now, with only 12 minutes until midnight, it was rule 36 that was running through his mind: _If it feels like you're being played, you probably are._

DiNozzo had expected the CIA to intercept their operation when they had all been together in the warehouse: it would have been the easiest location to capture them all and was the lowest risk when it came to innocent people becoming involved.

When that had not happened, Tony had hoped that they would have stopped the vans on the way to their targets: perhaps they'd reasoned that it would be easier to target three smaller teams instead of one large group of armed terrorists? Again, he had been let down.

As they parked the black van just around the corner from Heist, Tony started to feel like he was being played. Or perhaps this is what it meant to be a Ghost Op? He knew that he would have to work as a nameless, faceless agent, that he wasn't truly meant to _exist,_ but would Chapman go as far as to let Tony _become_ a terrorist to infiltrate the group?

Would the CIA actually sacrifice innocent civilians if it meant they had a chance to save thousands more? At this stage, Tony could not be surprised by anything anymore, though the sheer thought chilled him to the core. If that truly were the plan, he would rather die. At least then he would be with his family again.

On their drive to the club, DiNozzo had been forced to listen to the psychotic ramblings of the man sat across from him. The tall man ran a hand over his shaved head and sighed almost longingly.

''I'm dying for some fun!'' He'd uttered multiple times, tapping his foot impatiently as he tried to get them all to agree on the destruction the government was causing their country.

His partner, a woman with her dark hair tied back even tighter than Ziva had ever done, had muttered that that was why they were all there, though DiNozzo doubted that the man had heard her call him a moron.

''Have we met before?'' Tony blurted out. It was a genuine curiosity that had irked him since the man had started blabbering. He knew they'd crossed paths before, and he knew drawing attention to himself would be a risk, but the question had gnawed at him and he needed a way to keep this guy from slagging off government agencies any more without sucker punching him.

''Don't think so?'' The man eyed DiNozzo's rigid posture and grave expression and snorted. ''I don't hang out with no stuck up bitches.''

''You nervous?'' Thor suddenly asked the rambling man. The man had chuckled awkwardly and gone on the defence, once again emphasising his 'desire to have fun'. ''Then shut up or I'll show you how fun it is to have my foot up your ass.'' Tony had almost high-fived Thor.

From inside the van, they could now hear the faint thumping of repetitive music coming from the club. Outside, there was still a long queue of young people snaking around the block.

With their weapons already drawn, the two pairs opened the door and slipped out of the van. Tony's heart was racing, his gut screaming at him to take action before anyone could get hurt.

They nonchalantly walked past the queue, and Tony's heart sank as he heard some people _whooping them_ and shouting ''aw man, awesome!'': they all thought they were dressed for the club's bank heist theme.

That's when he saw her. He almost did not recognize her without her pigtails, without her usual bounciness, and her 'casual gothic' (He didn't think that was a thing until she had proven him otherwise) outfit made him wonder if she had been working before coming here, but it was her.

Tony had been to all sorts of clubs with Abby; some of them he liked, but most he hated. Still, he'd always made sure to accompany her, not just to keep her safe, but also simply because it meant spending a little bit more time with her.

Abby had a way of knowing when Tony needed an opportunity to relax, to let down his guards and recharge. It did not matter if they were at his place watching movies, or out dancing until the sun came up: his time with Abby was precious, and she never failed to lift his spirits.

Rule 39 told him there was no such thing as a coincidence, but what else would you call this: Fate's twisted sense of humour? He had not seen Abby for nine weeks, and here she was: queuing up for the club that was about to be attacked.

And she wasn't alone. Though it filled him with pride to see that none other than Jimmy Palmer had decided to accompany her (no matter how out of place he looked), he now had two close friends who could get caught in the line of fire.

He'd mentally prepared himself for the end: he wasn't going to let these terrorists have their way, and he knew he could take these guys on, but he also was realistic enough to know he would not survive a point blank gunfight against three heavily armed assailants (ignoring the two guys who were waiting for them in the van just around the corner). He was not prepared to sacrifice any more of his family.

Racing through his options, he quickly remembered rule 28: if you need help, ask. He just hoped he could. Time seemed to slow down as his eyes met Jimmy's. The man seemed to have been halfway through a story, and for a brief moment Tony worried that he would not recognize him, but the pure look of shock told him that Jimmy had seen him.

Abby quickly followed his line of sight (Tony could swear he heard her ask what he was looking at) and she visibly gasped as Tony walked right past them. Tears seemed to well up in her eyes, and for a moment it looked like she would leap into his arms, but Palmer held her back, frowning as he noticed the three people with Tony.

They needn't say a word. Tony gave the faintest of nods before he turned his gaze forward. He could not tell them to run, but he trusted them with the world.

A tall, bulky security guard glanced towards them and stepped forward, blocking the entrance for them. He crossed his arms over his chest and frowned.

''Sorry guys, no fake weapons allowed.'' The guard announced, nodding towards the queue. ''And you need to wait your turn like everyone else.''

It was the bald man who stepped forward, smirking like a Cheshire cat.

''That's alright, mister,'' He purred, lifting his gun to point at the bouncer. ''These guns ain't fake.''

It was five minutes until midnight when a loud bang echoed through the air. It sounded different from any early fireworks people were setting off, though just like fireworks people watched as crimson exploded with the noise.

Chaos followed. The same young people who had been buzzing moments prior were screaming and running away in terror as the bald man limply dropped to the ground. The guard stood frozen in his spot, blood splashed all over him.

''What the Hell?!'' The dark haired woman shrieked. Both she and Thor had their guns aimed at Tony, who glared back at them fiercely.

''I remembered where I'd met him before.'' Tony began coldly, his eyes darting between them when suddenly he aimed his weapon at the bouncer. All he needed to do right now was buy enough time for people to evacuate, and if there was one thing he was good at, it was talking. ''It wasn't until I saw you both together that I figured it out.''

''Woah man!'' the guard held up his hands, taking a step backwards. Tony took the opportunity and quickly closed the distance between them, silently mouthing 'play along' to the man in question. The man frowned, but he swallowed thickly and seemed to get the message.

''Loki!'' Tony turned to look back at the two guns still aimed at him. ''You've got five seconds to explain why we shouldn't have blown your brains out the second you shot one of our own!''

Tony needed just a second.

''He's a fed.''


	11. Chapter 11

It was a simple enough statement, but it seemed to stun the two terrorists into listening. ''There was an investigation before I got discharged, that's when I met these two.''

Tony gestured at the security guard and kept his gun trained on him as he searched the man. Without the others noticing, he slipped his own handgun out of the holster hidden underneath his jacket and reached around the man's back before revealing it to them.

''You ever seen a bouncer carrying a SIG Sauer?'' He quipped, holding it out as evidence.

Thor slowly lowered his weapon, eyes darting between Tony and the bouncer. DiNozzo locked eyes with the woman, who still seemed unsure about what had just unfolded.

''We don't have time for this,'' Tony urged her pleadingly. ''I doubt they came alone, so pleas-''

Before he could finish, another bullet soared through the air. Tony barely had time to register the lifeless look in the woman's eyes as the same bullet that ended her life tore through his jacket. DiNozzo stumbled backwards, his left hand reaching to the burning pain in his right shoulder.

''Fuck!'' Thor swirled around, his gun once again raised as he searched for their assailant.

With Thor distracted, DiNozzo quickly glanced back at the bouncer, who seemed frozen to the spot. He nodded towards the club behind them, silently ordering the man to run away. Though he still did not seem to understand why one of the terrorists seemed to be on his side, the bouncer was wise enough not to question him and quickly scrambled towards the entrance, bolting the door behind him.

Gritting his teeth, Tony turned back to Thor, who was shooting his gun aimlessly and placed his bloody hand on his shoulder, pushing him to crouch down as they ran towards a car parked by the street, taking cover behind it.

Another bullet flew just above their heads before they reached their cover, and Tony quickly glanced in the direction the shot had come from. On the first floor of a building across the street, he could see the window slightly open, the barrel of a rifle peeking out.

''What the Hell is going on?!'' Thor growled, eyes darting around frantically.

''We've been set up,'' Tony panted, the pain in his shoulder flaring up once more. ''My guess is that they wanted to take us alive and gather Intel. Until I killed their agent, that is…''

Noticing his partner's tone, Thor finally took a moment to look at Tony. He noticed the hole in the man's leather jacket and cursed the blood slowly oozing from the wound. He ran a hand over his face, seemingly contemplating their options.

''Can you shoot?'' He asked, nervously licking his lips. Tony grinned at the man and nodded reassuringly. He tucked the SIG Sauer he'd just pretended to take from the bouncer into the front of his jeans before holding his other gun in his left hand.

''He's across the street: first floor, third window from the right.'' Tony decided to share. He did not want to risk the life of another agent, but whoever had just shot at them either didn't know or didn't care that Tony was undercover. Right now, DiNozzo had only two goals: To keep civilians out of this mess, and to survive.

''Doubt it'll be the only one though,'' Thor chided, quickly checking how much ammunition he had left. ''Right now I think our best bet is to regroup with team C.''

''They might have already been arrested.'' DiNozzo countered. They could hear the sirens getting louder, alerting them of the increased difficulty to escape.

''Then how do you suggest we get out of here?'' Thor was quickly losing his patience. They had prepared to die for their 'cause', but that was before discovering that the government was onto them.

The first responders that they had hoped to target would no longer be the paramedics and police officers, but highly trained government agents who would not go down quite as easily as they'd hoped. Not to mention the fact that their team had lost half its members in a matter of minutes.

Tony couldn't help but feel relieved when he glanced around at the abandoned street. He had not noticed it before, but the vast amount of civilians that had been around only moments before seemed to have vanished entirely, and he couldn't help but wonder if that was the work of one familiar gothic and an autopsy gremlin.

What still bothered him, however, was the fact that none of the agents had identified themselves. The vast increase in gunshots indicated that there were more than just the sniper now, so why had none of them tried to get them to surrender?

In the corner of his eye, DiNozzo spotted something that gave him an idea. It was not going to guarantee their escape, but it was the only path where they wouldn't immediately run into the line of fire. All they needed was a distraction that would buy them enough time to make some distance.

''I may have an idea,'' Tony began, eyeing the machine gun they had not yet fired. With the ammunition they had available, it would buy them no more than a minute, but it was something. ''I need you to buy us some time though. And, uh, I need your hair band.''

Thor eyed his partner for a moment, but to Tony's surprise, the blond man sighed and pulled the elastic band out of his hair and handed it over.

''You've been right so far,'' He shrugged with a smirk. ''You ready?''

With a nod, Thor leaned over the hood and started firing at the other side of the street. The man counted three more agents before he ducked down, avoiding their return fire. If the loud sirens were anything to go by, they would soon be completely surrounded, so Thor hoped that whatever his partner had planned, he would do it fast.

As Thor drew the fire, Tony pulled out one of the knives and inched closer to the trunk of the car. With the knife, he managed to pry the boot open. After confirming that Thor wasn't looking, he removed the holster he'd previously kept his SIG Sauer in. He did not want the other man to see it, in case Thor would question him about the empty holster later.

He wrapped the straps around the machine gun and swiftly worked to fasten the straps to the trunk, to ensure that the machine gun would remain in place after he let go of it.

Turning around, he then crouched down by the manhole he'd spotted earlier. It took Tony more effort than he cared to admit, and the wound in his shoulder protested with every move, but he managed to lift the cover.

''I'm out of bullets!'' Thor flinched as another shot rang through the air and one of the car windows shattered. He inched closer to Tony and looked at the manhole, catching on immediately. ''Really?''

''Unless Donatello is after us, I suggest you head on down, I'll be right behind you.'' DiNozzo moved to the back of the car once more and swirled the rubber band around the trigger. Thor was already halfway down the ladder into the sewers when Tony pulled tightly to tie a knot around the trigger.

The machine gun was firing off rounds rapidly and he wasted no time diving into the hole, smoothly sliding down the ladder until he was down in the sewers.

''Lets go!'' He handed Thor his handgun and pulled the SIG out of his jeans before running into the darkness.

Tony couldn't help the odd sense of déjà vu that came over him. It had been years since he'd been kidnapped and ended up in the gutter with Atlas. At the time, Gibbs and Kate had found him, but this time he prayed that it was just he and Thor down there.

''Where are we going?'' Thor prodded curiously as his partner seemed to swiftly take turns in the underground maze. Tony stopped for a moment, seemingly lost in thought, but soon took another turn right and started jogging down the path.

''I know these streets pretty well,'' DiNozzo began explaining, visualising a map of DC in his head. In his time as both a cop and an agent, he had learned the importance of knowing one's surroundings, so over the past years, he'd taken to studying maps in his free time. It had helped him more than once when chasing down a suspect, he just hoped that it would also help him navigate the sewers. ''If I'm right it's not much further; five minutes max.''

''Five minutes to what?'' Thor asked, anxiously listening out for any noise behind them.

''Our way out!'' DiNozzo deadpanned, concentrating on their surroundings.

Five minutes passed without another word between them. Tony's heart was racing, his shoulder pulsating with every beat. When all this was over, he would need time to reflect on everything that had just happened: seeing Abby and Palmer, having been left without backup, and the agents shooting at them to kill rather than capture.

''Here we are.'' Tony silently prayed that he'd navigated them in the right direction: it was one thing to run through the streets of DC, but to blindly run through the sewer systems that ran below was a whole new challenge.

He climbed up the ladder in front of them and carefully tried the manhole cover. It was quiet above them: in the distance, Tony could still hear the sirens mixed in with fireworks. Chaos blended with ignorant celebrations, but after a quick glance, DiNozzo deemed the street they'd surfaced in positively empty.

What's more, they were almost exactly where he'd hoped to surface. Looking around, he realised they were just around the corner from the café where he'd previously met The Fox.

Holding out his left hand, Tony helped Thor climb out of the manhole. The man ran a hand through his wavy blond hair, which brushed just above his shoulders.

''Do you know how to ride a motorcycle?'' Tony suddenly asked. Thor raised a brow, still unsure of where they were.

''Uh, yeah.'' He answered. DiNozzo smirked and pulled his keys out of his jeans pocket, throwing them at Thor.

''Good, cause I don't think I'll be able to steer well with my arm like this. This way.'' He gestured at the gunshot wound that was still bleeding idly before leading the way once more.

Two blocks away from the café, they reached the Ducati stood parked by the side of the road. Thor climbed on first and waited for Tony to climb on the back before turning on the engine. A quick glance around the street showed them no one had spotted them as they drove off into the night, as far away from the sirens as possible.


	12. Chapter 12

It was three minutes to midnight when his phone rang. He had contemplated switching the damned thing off: he was not in the mood for anyone wishing him a 'Happy New Year', not while his SFA was still missing.

Vance had promised to snoop around the other agencies, but after Gibbs had waltzed into his office a third time demanding an update, the director had ordered Gibbs and his team to go home.

''It's New Years Eve,'' Vance had begun to explain. ''I will tell you as soon as I have a lead, but right now most people are off duty.''

Before he'd gone, Gibbs had paid Abby a visit. He frowned when he'd found her in a darkened lab with no music playing whatsoever. Her hair had not been done up in her usual pigtails, and even her makeup was 'light', for Abby's doing anyway. She was clasping onto Bert, her head resting on top of him as she sat in her chair.

''Abs?'' He carefully prodded when she didn't seem to notice him at first. Her green eyes shot up to meet his icy blue ones, and his heart twisted painfully as he saw the tears she was struggling to hold back.

''Sorry,'' She sniffed, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. ''Did you need something?''

''This about DiNozzo?'' He asked instead, leaning against her desk. A farting noise filled the air when she squeezed the toy hippo tighter.

''He always takes me out New Years Eve…'' She admitted sadly. Gibbs sighed, placing a hand on her shoulder and gently squeezing it.

''Then go out.'' He suggested kindly, the ghost of a smile on his face. ''You can tell him all about it when we find him.''

She contemplated his words for a moment, but Gibbs saw the sparkle in her eyes flicker with hope and determination once more.

''You're right!'' She perked, putting Bert on her desk before hopping out of her chair. ''If Tony can't make it, I'll just have to have fun for the both of us!''

She planted a soft kiss on Gibbs' cheek before skipping towards the exit of the lab.

''Hey Abs!'' Gibbs called after her, and she immediately spun around to face him. ''Take someone with you.''

''You got it, boss man!'' The Goth beamed, twirling around once more and disappearing from his sight. Gibbs shook his head and snorted.

''You've got a lot to make up for when we find you, Tony.'' He muttered to himself.

After getting home, Gibbs had finished the leftover pasta he'd made a few days ago and had grabbed a beer before retreating into his basement. Out of habit, he ran over the files on Tony's disappearance and scribbled down the possibility of another agency 'borrowing' his SFA.

If it was true, and another federal agency was behind Tony's disappearance, he almost pitied the person who would have to face his team's wrath. Almost.

He'd been contemplating a new woodwork project to keep him busy when his phone had gone off. He'd left it for the first few rings, but as the pesky thing refused to remain silent, Gibbs flipped it open to see who would bother him at this time.

''Gibbs! Gibbs! Gibbs!'' Abby's tone instantly put him on high alert. She usually sounded rushed, partly due to her constant caffeine intake, but something in her voice had changed. It wasn't just rushed; it was panicked.

''Abs, what's-''

''It's Tony!'' Abby interrupted frantically. Gibbs' gut was swirling uncomfortably. ''He's in danger!''

''Abby, slow down, what-''

Once again, Gibbs was interrupted, only this time by a sound he recognised far too well. Over the phone, he heard the screams and chaos that followed the gunshot. Was that Palmer he could hear shouting at people to ''run this way''?

''Abby what's going on?!'' By this time he was running up the stairs and out the door, his phone lodged between his ear and his shoulder as he holstered his gun. ''Where are you?''

''A club called Heist!'' Abby quickly relayed the address to Gibbs, who was already pulling out of his driveway and racing through the street. ''Gibbs, hurry!''

''I'm on my way, stay safe!'' Gibbs barked desperately, his heart racing.

He had no idea what was happening. All he knew was that Abby was somewhere where gunshots were being fired, and somehow DiNozzo was involved.

He had made it through the streets in DC in record time. He swallowed past the lump forming in his throat as he reached the club: instead of fireworks, flashes of blue and red sirens coloured the streets. Police officers were working to tape off the scene while a SWAT team still stood scattered around the club.

A silver sedan parked right outside the club was coated in bullet holes: Gibbs could see a weapon prodded in the boot of the car, and right by the entrance two bodies had been covered with white sheets.

People were coming out of the club, tear stained and shaking in fear. Gibbs flashed his badge at a nearby officer as he ran past him, eyes darting over the crowds.

''Gibbs!'' Relief flushed over him when he saw Abby running towards him. He enveloped her in a tight embrace, his hand running through her hair soothingly.

''What happened, Abs?'' He asked once she calmed down a little. She pulled out of the hug, and for a moment she seemed uncertain where to begin.

''I invited Palmer to come to this club with me,'' She finally started, and Gibbs couldn't help the slight smile that tugged at his lips. He just could not imagine anyone more awkward in a club than Jimmy- except maybe McGee.

''Hey!'' Abby berated. She placed her hands on her hips, seemingly catching on to his train of thought. ''Jimmy has been great through all of this! He's still helping coordinate the paramedics.''

Glancing in the direction Abby gestured at, Gibbs could indeed see the young man briefing the paramedics whilst apparently assessing a young man's leg.

''How many dead?'' Gibbs hated having to ask this, but he needed to know the severity of the situation.

''Two.''

That came as a surprise. With the amount of people here, as well as the amount of bullet holes that he could see in the cars and walls, Gibbs had expected a larger number.

''Two?'' Gibbs repeated, still unsure if he'd heard it right. Abby nodded.

''Tony shot the first one,'' She explained, gesturing at the two covered up bodies. ''As far as I heard an agent shot the second one, I was too busy helping people take cover when-''

''Hold up!'' Gibbs stopped her from rambling on. ''DiNozzo's here? Where is he?''

''That's the thing, Gibbs,'' Abby answered, looking at him worriedly. ''Palmer and I were in the queue when these guys walked past with weapons-''

''Why did no one stop them?'' Gibbs asked, baffled that these men, whoever they were, had been able to casually walk up to a club with weapons drawn.

''The club has a bank heist theme,'' Abby responded, gesturing at the name above the venue. ''There was meant to be a special event on tonight, you know, since it's New Years, so everyone thought it was going to be an act.''

Gibbs felt sick at the thought of that. Pushing his anger aside, he urged Abby to continue explaining what had happened.

''I noticed that Palmer wasn't really paying attention to what I was saying, so I tried to see what caught his eye.'' She continued.

''Tony.'' Gibbs caught on.

''He was with the attackers. There were four of them, Tony included.'' Abby revealed hesitantly. ''Gibbs, he looked at right at us. I noticed the weapons and I obviously knew something was hinky, but he nodded at us and just kept walking.''

''He was asking for help.'' Gibbs again tried to fill in the gaps. Abby nodded.

''That's when I called you. Jimmy started telling people around us that they'd better leave, but they didn't listen until Tony shot one of the guys he'd come with! We guided people away from the gunfire, so I'm not sure what happened next.''

Gibbs took a moment to digest the information. If Tony had indeed been drawn into some sort of undercover operation, then he must have blown his cover by shooting a teammate. Then again, it was clear that Tony was not here, nor was the fourth assailant.

''Agent Gibbs!'' Palmer jogged towards them; having finished with the young man he'd been assessing.

''Palmer, you alright?'' Gibbs asked, waiting patiently for the young man to catch his breath.

''I'm fine, but Tony was shot.'' Gibbs' heart sank, memories of DiNozzo rapidly losing blood in the harbour flashing through his mind.

''I just spoke to the bouncer who stopped them from going inside.'' Jimmy announced. ''He told me that the bullet that killed the woman also hit Tony in the shoulder.''

''Where is this guy?'' Gibbs growled, needing to hear from this witness directly. Palmer pointed in the direction of a bulky man sat on the pavement, a blanket wrapped around his shoulders.

Gibbs started walking towards the man, but paused suddenly and turned to look at Palmer.

''Thank you, you did good.'' It was a rare compliment, but it was well deserved.

''Sir?'' Gibbs began when he reached the security guard. The man looked exhausted, but he gave Gibbs a polite nod when he saw the badge. ''I'm with NCIS. Could you please tell me what happened?''

''I already told the other agents.'' The man stammered, seemingly not too pleased to go over the experience once more.

''I'd just like to ask you about the man who got shot in the shoulder.''

At that, the man seemed to perk up a little.

''Dude saved my life.'' He ran a hand over his face, and Gibbs waited patiently for the man to elaborate.

''I told them 'no fake guns allowed' when they walked up, we had a couple of kids try the same thing once or twice so I didn't think anything of it.'' The bouncer shuddered at the memory. ''That's when one of them aimed his gun at me, but before I knew what was happening this other guy shot him in the head.''

Gibbs nodded encouragingly for the man to continue his story.

''This dude then turned to me and mouthed something at me.'' The man frowned.

''What did he say?'' Gibbs prodded.

''Play along.'' The guard answered, still seemingly confused. ''I didn't know what to do, so I just stood there, and this dude, he fake searches me and reveals his own gun as if it was mine.''

Gibbs processed that for a moment. Why would Tony try to plant a gun on the security guard? Unless…

''Why did he shoot his teammate?'' Gibbs asked, hoping that he was indeed catching on to Tony's improvisations.

''He said the other guy was a fed.''

Tony had been trying to protect his cover. Gibbs knew that DiNozzo would never willingly have gotten this close to hurting civilians, so he'd risked his own life by shooting his teammate. In order to keep his cover intact, he had then blamed the other man for being an agent. Gibbs wasn't entirely certain that that would have worked, but it was the only way he could make sense of the information he'd been given.

''He was showing them the gun when another gunshot came out of nowhere,'' Gibbs was drawn back to the man's report. ''It went through the woman's head and hit the guy in the shoulder.''

''So it wasn't one of them who took the second shot?'' Gibbs asked, and the man solemnly confirmed.

''The blond guy got distracted by the shot, so he didn't see his partner nodding at me to run away. I bolted the door as soon as I got in, so I can't tell you what happened next.''

''Thank you for your time.'' Gibbs nodded at the man and quickly turned on his heel, his blood boiling.

There's no way any officer could have responded to the shooting that quickly, so there must have been an agent already there knowing what was going to happen.

So why did they wait for Tony to shoot first? Why had they risked his SFA's life, along with hundreds of civilians? If they'd known about the attack, they would have been able to intercept it before they'd reached the club: The fact that they hadn't, fuelled Gibbs with rage.

''Excuse me!'' Gibbs turned to see a tall man with short, dark hair storming up to him. The man's jaw was taut, his eyes flaring hostilely.

''What do you think you're doing at _my_ crime scene?''

The older man eyed the stranger carefully. He was wearing an expensive looking suit, and the man's posture demanded authority. Definitely not a police officer, he thought.

''Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs,'' Gibbs held out his credentials for the man to inspect. If his gut was right, which it usually was, he needed to try and find out how much this man knew.

''And what exactly is NCIS doing here?'' The man questioned, seemingly reluctant to reveal his own identity.

''Two of our own were queuing up for the club at the time of the shooting.'' Gibbs decided not to reveal Tony's involvement in this yet, not until he had all the puzzle pieces. The fact that Abby and Palmer had been there seemed to surprise the man, though he did very well in hiding it. ''They called me over as soon as it happened.''

''As much as I appreciate your need to look after your own men,'' The stranger sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. ''This is not your jurisdiction; it's ours. You can't just walk around here and interview our witnesses.''

''Only trying to help.'' Gibbs shrugged before deciding to take a more direct approach. ''And who _are_ you?''

The man seemed to ponder his options for a moment before reaching into his suit jacket and pulling out his credentials.

''Special Agent Benjamin Hopkins, FBI.'' He put his credentials back in his pocket and straightened his jacket.

''I thought this was just a shooting?'' Gibbs asked innocently, demanding an explanation as to why the FBI would be at the scene.

''We have reasons to believe that at least one of the victims is involved in a larger operation, not that it's any of your business.'' Hopkins growled, quickly losing his patience.

There was a long silence between the two men, each one trying to read the other. Gibbs didn't trust a word that came out of Hopkin's mouth, but the agent in him told him he needed proof before he could try and get the truth out of him.

''I'll leave you to it.'' Gibbs grumbled after a while, turning his back on the agent and walking towards Abby and Jimmy, who had been watching them from a distance.

He gently took Abby by her arm and guided her towards his car, Palmer following closely behind them. Both looked at Gibbs expectantly, longing to know what had just transpired. Instead, Gibbs pulled out his phone.

''Boss?'' McGee sounded alert: he knew Gibbs wouldn't just call him to wish him a happy New Year.

''I need you to do something.'' Gibbs began, skipping any pleasantries.

Tony had been there: Abby and Palmer had seen him alive, and he needed their help. They would not let him slip away again.


	13. Chapter 13

''Shit,'' Thor had parked the bike in a small alley. Peeking around the corner, he could see the road up ahead was blocked off by patrol cars. Anyone who tried to get past the cars, be it on foot or driving, had to identify themselves to the heavily armed officers. As it stood, they only had one loaded gun left between them, so shooting their way out was not an option. ''Now what?''

''They've probably got road blocks all around DC…'' Tony conceded, leaning heavily against the wall they were hidden behind. ''We've got to find a place to lay low.''

Turning around, Thor gritted his teeth. His partner was pale, there were dark circles under his eyes and he looked like the wall was the only thing still keeping him upright. Though the wound was not necessarily life threatening, Thor realised that it still needed to be seen to, if only to keep it from getting infected.

He hated to admit it, but he'd come to like the guy. In the few hours that they'd known each other, 'Loki' had proven himself a valuable asset to their team. The operation might have been a failure, but thanks to his partner, he had a chance to survive, a chance to fight for their cause once more.

''I don't suppose you know of any abandoned buildings we can squat in?'' Thor quipped half-heartedly. He had a small apartment he'd rented out on the other side of town, but he did not want to push their luck trying to make it there. Even if they did not get caught driving there, he started to wonder if the brunet would be able to stay conscious long enough.

''I might know something better…'' Tony smirked weakly. The adrenaline rush he'd felt before was quickly fading, replaced by a burning agony in his shoulder. ''An old acquaintance lived a couple of blocks from here…''

''Lived?''

''H-he died a little while ago…'' Tony grimaced as he pushed himself away from the wall. He swayed slightly until he noticed a steadying hand on his good shoulder. ''Bastard never locked his door, hopefully that's still the same…''

''Lets go.'' Thor nodded. They decided to abandon the motorcycle for now, opting for silently creeping through the narrow alleys instead.

With every step they took, Tony could feel his energy fade. He was beyond exhausted, and it took every last bit of his willpower to get to the house in the dark street. It was close to 3am when they reached their hideout, and any people who had stayed up to watch the fireworks had now retreated into their warm homes.

DiNozzo couldn't help but feel nervous when they approached the front door. He'd been at Gibbs' house more times than he could count, but tonight he wondered what he would find on the other side of the door.

He hadn't seen a 'For Sale' sign out on the lawn. Had Ducky and Abby been inside? Had they packed away Gibbs' belongings? Tony's heart ached as he thought of the grief they must have dealt with: Tony had spent the past nine weeks not-quite-mourning the loss of his family, but so had they.

He had not allowed himself to think of their deaths too much and had instead focused on getting better and stronger (yet here he was shot for the second time in roughly two months, Chapman would not be impressed). It wasn't just because it was too painful: it just did not make sense.

From what he'd seen tonight, these terrorists were not nearly as organised as he'd expected them to be. So how had one of them managed to kill _three_ armed federal agents? Even if they'd been focused on DiNozzo, they would have fought back the moment the first gunshot had pierced through the air.

Pushing his thoughts aside, he tried the door: it was unlocked. Carefully opening it further, Tony was surprised to see the room exactly as he remembered it. Nothing had been packed away: it was the same, neat living room he'd walked into time and again.

Thor ushered him to the couch and helped him down with a gentleness Tony did not expect of him. DiNozzo's shirt was soaked with blood, and a closer inspection revealed that there was no exit wound.

''There should be a first aid kit in the bathroom upstairs…'' Tony grunted, his shoulder protesting when they worked him out of his shirt. ''Second door from the right…''

Thor disappeared upstairs to retrieve the box. Tony pressed the shirt against his injury to stop the bleeding, listening carefully to his partner's footsteps. The blond man quickly returned, first aid kit in hand, and crouched down besides him. He opened the box and rummaged through it until he found what he was looking for.

''You ready for this?'' Thor asked, eyeing Tony carefully. Tony removed the shirt from the hole in his shoulder and grinned sheepishly.

''Have you even done this before?'' He retorted.

DiNozzo gasped as Thor suddenly inserted the pliers, wiggling them around until he got a hold of the bullet. Without warning, the man pulled the bullet out, and Tony worked hard to bite back a cry of pain. White spots were dancing in his vision as Thor worked to clean and bandage the wound.

''Hey, Loki!'' Thor snapped his fingers in front of Tony's face. Tony blinked the fogginess away, meeting the man's concerned gaze. Had he passed out? ''You with me?''

''Y-you couldn't have done that a bit more carefully?'' Tony uttered weakly, offering the man a faint smile. He could see the relief washing over his partner in crime.

''I did what I could with the items at hand,'' Thor shrugged, wiping his hands on Tony's ruined shirt. ''I don't suppose the guy that lived here has a sowing kit so we can close that wound properly?''

''I doubt it.'' Tony snorted, examining the blond man's handiwork. The pain in his shoulder had subsided considerably now that there wasn't a small lead projectile prodding him every second, and though there were plenty of bloody bandages scattered around the living room, the gauze on his shoulder seemed clean. ''Thanks.''

''We're brothers now, aren't we?'' Thor grinned. He got back to his feet and started to collect the bloody clothes and bandages. He briefly disappeared into the kitchen, then walked back into the living room with two glasses of water, handing one to DiNozzo.

Tony downed the glass in one go, not having realised how thirsty he was. Thor settled in the armchair nearby, taking a few sips before placing the glass on the corner table. Tony glanced at the clock on the wall, but his vision had become blurry. Before he knew it, his eyelids had slipped shut, and he succumbed to his exhaustion.

By the time he woke up, light was creeping through the gap between the curtains. The agonizing pain in his shoulder had become nothing more than a dull throbbing, and Tony wondered if those injections Chapman had made him use would still affect this healing process.

Turning his head, he realised that Thor had fallen asleep in the armchair at some stage. The SIG Sauer (when had Thor taken that from him?) rested limply in the hand in his lap, and his head was hanging forward at an angle that made Tony's neck ache just looking at it.

Overcome with curiosity, Tony stood up from the sofa, slowly walking towards the kitchen. Nothing appeared out of place, though he was surprised to see a few items in the fridge when he opened it. It was not much more than a couple of beers and a half empty tub of butter, but he still wondered why no one had bothered to clear it out.

He glanced inside some of the cupboards and found a few cans of beans and soup: at least they wouldn't starve if they had to stay here a few days.

He left the kitchen and almost automatically walked towards the stairs leading down to the basement. He stopped at the top of the stairs. His gut was churning, a lump forming in his throat. He was in Gibbs' home, and the knowledge that he would not find his boss at the end of these steps suddenly made his legs heavy.

Swallowing past the lump, Tony took a first tentative step down the stairs. He expected to be faced with darkness and dust, but was shocked to find the light on the table at the back still on. There was an unfinished project in the middle of the room, and his heart ached with the thought that it would remain incomplete.

The scent of sawdust brought back memories of evenings spent watching his boss work, not a word spoken between them unless Tony wished to speak. It reminded him of the night before he'd been shot in the leg: Tony had wanted to invite Gibbs over to his place for Christmas.

That wasn't the only reason, but DiNozzo couldn't bring himself to remember why he'd really come around. Gibbs had offered him a beer, and Tony had quietly watched the man work while he considered if he was ready to confess why he'd really paid his boss a visit. He hadn't been quite ready yet, and Gibbs hadn't pushed him. He would do anything for another night like that.

Reaching the bottom of the stairs, he found himself drawn to the single source of light in the basement. Next to the lamp, he could see files scattered haphazardly on the table: had those been there the last time?

From a distance, they looked like any other case file he'd dealt with. So why was his gut urging him to have a closer look? Walking further into the room, a single photo caught his eye: it was a photo of him.

He picked up the files and started reading through them: with each word, his anger grew, his knuckles turning white as the paper crumpled in his grip.

Deep breaths, Tony urged himself. Being absolutely livid would not help in his current predicament. The movement he could hear upstairs reminded him that he was not alone in Gibbs' home, and if Thor found these files, he'd be done for.

Collecting all the files, Tony looked around the barren basement for a place to hide the stack of papers. He remembered Gibbs showing him once that he had a secret compartment in the wall on the right. Tony didn't know why Gibbs deemed it necessary to keep a spare gun and stash of cash hidden in his basement, but right now it was a welcome hiding spot.

Carefully feeling his way down the wall, he felt the panel partially covered by the workbench and removed it. He was about to slip the files into the compartment when he had another idea. Glancing around, he was relieved to find a pencil in a pot of nuts and bolts.

''Loki?'' He could hear Thor calling for him, and he knew it was only a matter of time until the man would come down the stairs. He quickly scribbled down his message, then stuffed the files away and put the panel back in place.

''Down here!'' He called, quickly brushing the dust off his trousers, wincing at the pain that shot through his shoulder as he did so.

Thor came down the stairs and into the basement, still holding onto the gun as he eyed Tony expectantly.

''I remembered that he kept the good liquor down here.'' Tony held up a bottle he'd grabbed from the table just in time.

''Booze at 8am?'' Thor laughed, shaking his head.

''Helps against the shoulder pain.'' Tony explained casually, relieved when Thor seemed to buy his ruse.

''So do painkillers. Seems your friend had a fair amount of those in his medicine cabinet.'' Thor threw a bottle of pills, which Tony caught with his left hand. Eyeing the pills, he realised that these were the painkillers Ducky had prescribed Gibbs when the man had had a particularly rough run in with a suspect. It did not surprise Tony to see that the bottle was mostly full.

''And here I thought I could finally live the pirate life.'' Tony joked, following Thor back up the stairs.

Over the next hour, Tony and Thor considered their options over a bowl of lukewarm tomato soup. They had agreed that, even though they wanted to lay low, they could not risk staying in one place for too long.

Thor had explained that the others would not have gone back to the warehouse where they'd met each other. After running through every possible scenario, they came to two conclusions:

Firstly, they needed to get out of DC. Agents would be searching for them, and remaining in the city would only increase their risk of getting caught.

The escape plan was simple enough, though it did not come without risks. They would cause a distraction at one of the checkpoints, and then disappear within the commotion. When Tony had revealed his idea of a 'distraction', Thor had roared with laughter, but he eventually conceded.

Secondly, once they got out of the city, they'd split up. People were on the lookout for _two_ assailants, and Tony knew from experience that people often did not think to look for these suspects as individuals. It was in their best interest to split up until things had cooled down, although they also agreed to stay in contact with burner phones.

Once they'd finished the soup, Tony made his way upstairs where he grabbed a clean shirt to wear. He buttoned up the navy blue shirt, rolling up the sleeves, which were slightly too short for his arms.

Rummaging through the closet, Tony found a grey jacket to wear over the shirt and carefully slipped his right arm in. Satisfied with his new garments, DiNozzo returned to the living room, where his partner was waiting for him.

Tony had made up his mind. Together, they would escape DC. After that, there would be Hell to pay.


	14. Author's Note

**_Hello to anyone reading Without A Trace. Firstly, thank you very much for reading my story, it truly means a lot to me._**

 ** _Secondly, I promise that I will complete the story in its entirety, however I currently am unable to write for a while. I have badly injured my wrist, and will need to take some time off writing to allow it to fully heal (ironically, a bit like Tony, I will need local steroid injections to help fight against the inflammation). I apologise for the hiatus, but once again, I promise that I will continue my writing as soon as I can._**

 ** _I might still upload some old one-shots or other old fics that I have written ages ago, just to keep my profile active._**

 ** _I hope you understand my predicament and I thank you for your patience._**

 ** _Sincerely,_**

 ** _Noraneko94_**


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